I crouch and offer Charlie my hand to sniff. He does, then happily lets me stroke him. “How is it, Kate, that I’ve never heard of you before?”
“Why would you?”
“Because I’ve known Charlotte almost my entire life, and I don’t remember her mentioning you. And the last time I was in her house, I don’t remember seeing any photos of you either.”
“She’s my great-aunt. Or was my great-aunt.”
I straighten. “I’m sorry for your loss. She was a great person.” Kate thanks me with a small smile. “So, what are you? The black sheep of the family? Someone she dared not talk about?” My mouth slides up to one side.
“Unfortunately, I only met her once. She wasn’t close to my family. She preferred to live in this town. She didn’t like visiting LA, and my family only vacations in exotic locales.” She points at Scoundrel and Lady. “Meg said you’re going to show me how to look after them.”
“My brother Jake might have mentioned that to me, too. Do you know anything about horses?”
She shakes her head. “You mean other than they’re big and they poop like any other mammal?”
“That shit is the stuff you’ll be cleaning out of their stable every day.” A job that I’m sure this princess will never do—much like Samantha would never do it either. The task is beneath them.
If the screwing up of Kate’s nose is an indication, she agrees one hundred percent with my assessment.
“You have a dog who I’m sure craps,” I say. “Are you telling me you don’t pick up after him when you’re walking him?”
That was Samantha’s number one reason for not getting a dog. The idea of putting her hands anywhere near its shit freaked her out.
Kate lifts her chin. “Of course I pick up after Charlie. But in case you haven’t noticed, he’s a small dog. Small dogs make small poop. Horses make—”
“A big pile of steaming horseshit.” I laugh. “But unlike dogs, you don’t put your hand near the crap. You use a shovel and a pitchfork to scoop it into the wheelbarrow.” I make a show of checking out what she’s wearing. “I don’t suppose you have any clothes and footwear you don’t mind getting messy?”
She looks down at her outfit—the expensive dress and the expensive shoes—and her skin pales.
Which is quite the accomplishment, given how pale it already is.
“I brought my yoga pants and a pair of sneakers so I’d have something to wear when I pack up the house. But they aren’t suitable for cleaning out a dirty stable.”
“Maybe Charlotte has something you can wear.”
Kate wrinkles her nose in that adorable way of hers. “I’m not wearing clothes that belonged to a dead person.”
“It’s not like she died in them.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point, then? It’s not like she’s going to haunt you because you’re wearing them.”
She rolls her eyes. “Can’t I just hire you to clean the stable and take care of the horses?”
“I already have my own chores to do atmyranch. I don’t have time to drive here twice a day to feed and take care ofyourhorses.”
“They’re notmyhorses.” She adds a little extra huff to “my.”
“Technically, Princess, they are. According to Charlotte’s will, I got the Thunderbird.” I point at the rusty vintage car. “And you got the horses.”
Her lush lips transform into a pout, making her look even more like a sexy pinup girl. A pinup girl who wants to be kissed.
Although I’m pretty sure, given our conversation, kissing is the last thing on her mind. I’d say stomping her foot against the ground—or possibly on top of my foot—is a more likely outcome.
“Fine, I’ll hire someone else to take care of them,” she says.
“You could try that. But in the meantime, someone will have to look after them. So what will it be? Do you want me to show you what you’ll need to do to keep them happy and healthy…or are you going to let them suffer because you’re too high and mighty to look after them yourself?” My words contain an equal dose of challenge and mockery. Mockery because she reminds me so much of my ex-girlfriend. Challenge because I know Kate loves animals—or at least she loves dogs.
